


One Night in Goodneighbor

by CrackingLamb



Series: Nights [1]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, One Night Stands, Recreational Drug Use, with FEELS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-08 02:06:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12854427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrackingLamb/pseuds/CrackingLamb
Summary: When a dangerous, beautiful Sole Survivor wants you to help her out, you don't say no.





	One Night in Goodneighbor

Hancock wasn’t especially introspective. He knew this about himself, and didn’t judge. He’d seen a lot of shit go down in his life, caused a lot of it too. Fury mixed with chems was never a good idea. But in this case it had earned him a town, a tricorn and a backlog of unfinished business. Ten years down the road and no end in sight.

A hip bumped into him at the bar in the Third Rail, and he glanced over the top of his beer to see blue eyes peering at him. “Sorry,” the face attached to those little pieces of sky said.

“No problem,” he replied and went back to his beer. Then he realized he recognized those baby blues and took another look. “Where ya been keepin’ yourself, sister?”

“Here and there,” the Vault dweller replied. She’d traded in her Vault suit for something…rattier. Still, it was a good look for her, the loose scarf around her slender throat, the cropped sleeves and leggings hugging her figure, the ends of the fraying skirt showing off just a little too much knee. Pretty but damaged; it was apt.

“You still lookin’ for work?”

“Not at present,” she said, downing her bourbon in one go. Her face flushed, but she didn’t cough, didn’t sputter. He’d liked that about her from the get go. She was tough, she was capable. He’d heard the rumors. She’d taken down Kellogg. She’d taken out an Institute courser by herself with only a dog for backup. She routed out raiders and Gunners with equal abandon all over the Commonwealth. She’d conquered Nuka World, and then wiped out every trace of the Pack, the Disciples _and_ the Operators. She had never been less than invulnerable from what he’d heard. Looking into those blue eyes, he didn’t believe it for a second. Everyone had a weak spot. He knew from experience.

“How ya been?” he asked, just for something to say.

“Dirty.”

It forced a chuckle from his throat. “It’s a dirty world.”

“Yup.”

“Why are you here?”

“Just drinkin’,” she said, waving her glass at Charlie, who floated over and poured her another one. She dropped some caps on the bar and sipped this time. “This is one place I can let down my guard.”

“Thanks…I think.”

“No problem,” she returned, with a wink and a gleam in her eye. He knew it wasn’t directly aimed at him; she didn’t do entanglements like that. He would know, he’d asked to go with her once. Months ago, maybe a year? Had it been so long?

“Anything else I can offer?” he asked, just like he had before. He already knew she would say no, she always did.

“Nah. Not unless you can turn back time, or blot out the universe.”

“I don’t know about that, but I can at least make it go away for a while.” The look she turned on him now was…beseeching. “Wanna get outta here?”

“Sure, Mayor.”

He took her back to the State House when she was done with her drink, like dozens…hundreds…before her. But none of them had ever made his heart skip, or his gut churn quite like she did. She was a powerhouse, and quite possibly more ruthless than he’d been on his best day. She could tear him apart with her teeth, and while the mental image had its pleasant aspects, he wasn’t sure he would survive it.

“Pick your poison,” he gestured at the coffee table in his office, slouching on the sofa like the degenerate junkie he was. Mentats, Jet, Psycho, Buffout – not that she needed that one – Med-X…the works, all laid out like a feast for the senses. Or the senseless.

“What do you suggest?” she asked from the other sofa, her knees primly held together. It was altogether incongruous seeing her sit like that when he knew she was capable of taming a deathclaw – a fucking deathclaw – and turning it into some kind of pet. He’d heard that, right? She used a deathclaw at her home settlement as a guard dog.

“This time of night, I like Jet,” he said, returning to the conversation at hand. He held out a red inhaler and she took it from across the table, her fingers slim and pretty and not nearly as dirty as she claimed. “You want the world to slow down and disappear, that’s your ticket.”

“And then what, Hancock?” She cradled the inhaler and the image of her hand wrapped around something else was shockingly clear in his head. He cocked a lopsided grin at her.

“Anything you want, sister.”

“Eleanor,” she snapped.

“What?”

“My name is Eleanor. No one uses it these days. It’s always boss or General or…” She raised her eyes to his. How had he never noticed those freckles before? “No one calls me Eleanor anymore.”

“Eleanor,” he breathed, almost reverently as she lifted the inhaler to her lips and filled her lungs with the chem. She let it out slowly, the vapor masking her face for an instant before she vaulted over the table and landed in his lap, tossing the spent inhaler aside.

“Anything, Mister Mayor?” she asked in a pretty voice that had always turned his bones to water – not that he would ever have said so, even to his closest confidante. His hands had automatically latched onto her hips to keep her steady. He felt the hard muscles under skin through her skirt, could feel the strength in her legs as she straddled him. _A powerhouse_.

“What is it you want?” he murmured, so close he could count the smattering of freckles now if he wanted. They ranged across her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose, more visible now with her skin turning pale and lustrous.

“What if I want you?” she inquired, almost politely. As if she wasn’t straddling his thighs, as if she couldn’t feel his instantaneous erection. Her eyes were stark and vibrant, longing but empty. “What if I want you to erase the world for me? Can you do that?”

It was a challenge, then. Hancock was good for a wild night, right? Never mind the bloodstains on his conscience, never mind the chems that could kill an army laid out on his table. He might have been tempted to be disappointed that that was all she wanted from him if he didn’t want her so badly in return. To touch something so pristine and _awesome_.

He let his hands slide up from her hips to just under her armpits, his thumbs perilously close to her breasts. She made a small sound, almost a whimper. But surely not. No woman as dangerous as she could make a sound like that. He dug in his fingers and she hummed.

“You want a grand tour or just a fly by?” he said darkly. He hated being used, no matter how much he wanted to use her. It irked him a little, that she was like all the rest. He’d wanted her to be different, to matter. But at the same time, he’d never offered her more than this anyway. He had only himself to blame.

“Show me what you got,” she said, arching a single perfect brow. Her pupils were blown wide from the Jet and her breath smelled of bourbon and how could he resist such a challenge? He grinned, all teeth and promise and crushed her mouth with his.

She molded herself to him, breasts pressed against his chest, arms circling his neck. He could feel her pulse jumping in her throat when he laid his hand on it. She didn’t back down from a fight, he knew. She was aggressive, fearless and uninhibited. This wasn’t mere curiosity or a whim; she wanted _him_.

 _Who is going to give who the wild ride?_ he thought.

Her teeth nipped at his bottom lip and he laughed. “Careful, there ain’t much of that one left.”

“There’s enough.”

He tried to slow his breathing, but it was hard with his arms full of her, his nose full of her scent, light and floral and again incongruous with her demeanor. “Tell me what you want, Eleanor.”

“I want you to fuck me like tomorrow is the day I die.”

“Are you expecting it to be?”

She tilted her head to the side and didn’t answer, only leaned closer to kiss him again. Her hands trailed over the back of his head, sliding up under his tricorn without dislodging it. Her nails scraped on his skin and he shuddered. When she pulled away those hands went to her vest, unbuttoning it and discarding it next to them on the sofa. She tugged away the scarf, baring her throat. Her skin was pale there too, unnaturally pale like she never saw the sun. Without speaking she took off the worn undershirt too, and then the belt of her skirt, leaving her torso clothed only in a plain white bra.

He took her hands in his when she reached behind her back to unhook it. “Let me,” he said. She didn’t fight him, but didn’t pull her hands from his either, her arms folded tight behind her back, her breasts jutting in his face from the angle. “That’s a pretty picture,” he breathed into her skin, tracing the edges of the bra with his tongue.

She made that noise again, somewhere between a hum and a whimper. He bit down on the upper curve of a breast, just a nip, just lightly and she convulsed on him, her breath coming out of her lungs like a gasp.

“Hancock…”

“Hmm?”

“You don’t have to go so slow.”

“No, I don’t _have_ to.” He leaned back a bit, so he could see into her eyes again. “But I want to.”

He let go of her hands so he could run his fingers up and down her spine, catching the hook of the bra and setting it free without drawing the straps down her arms. She breathed a sigh like relief, as if she could finally take a deep breath. With one hand in her hair he drew her back to his mouth, while the other roamed over her skin, soft and smooth like porcelain. He cupped her breast and felt the nipple blossom into his palm. She arched into his touch and he marveled at how responsive she was.

“I want to see all of you,” he whispered. She nodded silently and pushed herself off his lap so she could stand. The skirt already hung low on her waist without the belt holding it up and she drew down the side zipper so it fell at her feet. He scooted forward to the edge of the sofa and pressed skittering kisses on her stomach and hipbones, his fingers tugging down the leggings. When she was naked he sat back and looked his fill. She wasn’t shy, she didn’t cover herself. No, she watched him looking at her, her eyes glowing bright in the lamplight.

“Seen enough?” she asked huskily.

“Never enough,” he said without thinking. This wasn’t the time for emotional declarations. Still, it made her smile and he returned it, standing up to lead her to his bed. This wasn’t something planned, but it was also not something he intended to short change. She thought she wanted him to just fuck her, but he knew in his soul that he wanted more. He wanted her to come apart at the seams. This was his one and only opportunity to make that happen.

He dropped his frockcoat on a chair and unwound the flag from his hips, grinning at her anticipatory expression. There were plenty of people who’d wanted a quick fuck from him; he was more than aware of this since he rarely turned them down. None ever looked at him quite that way, though. As if they were eager to see his mottled, warped skin. But she wasn’t put off by him. On the rare occasions that she’d touched him before she’d left him here and went on to conquer the world, she’d never flinched. Not once.

He pulled his shirt over his head without bothering with the buttons and before his head was even clear, he felt her hands tugging on the snap of his jeans, burrowing under before the zipper had even lowered. There was that sound again, a whimper and a hum. Skin to skin she pressed herself against him.

“I want it all, Hancock,” she said, her voice low and clear. He knew the Jet had worn off, but she didn’t seem to mind. He kicked off his boots and pushed the jeans down. He crowded her backwards until she collapsed across the bed, her legs splayed out and her arms flung wide as she went with it. He pushed one leg up high, her ankle in his hand, spreading her open to his gaze.

“You’re a beautiful woman, Eleanor. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“Not in a long time.”

“Well, you are.”

He bent over her exposed body and licked a path from her core to her belly, making her hips tilt up and her breath hitch. He feasted on her, pressing a finger inside her while she bucked and finally, finally moaned with a full throated sound of pleasure. He wanted to hear it again, and slipped a second finger in with the first, as deep as he could. She clenched on him, hot and wet and so tight he was worried he was gonna hurt her. He licked and suckled on her flesh until she came unraveled, her legs limp and shivering. Only then did he climb between them and line himself up.

“Now, Hancock, for the love of God…”

He sank into her slowly, giving her time to adjust, but she was done with that. She planted her feet on the bed and lifted her hips and he fell so deep he could feel her womb against the head of his cock. It was his turn to moan, to gasp. Like a glove of steel she fit around him, arched up and into him like she still wanted more. He pulled back and slammed home again and she cried out, a glorious ringing sound he could die happy hearing.

“Yes!” she cried, her legs now clamped around his back, ankles crossed over each other. Her strong thighs squeezed him as he stroked her hard, each one bringing him closer and closer to coming. A fine sheen of sweat glistened on her skin and he fell forward to sip it up from between her breasts, up along her throat. Her hands went around him so that he was caged by her limbs. “More,” she said.

He pushed his hands under her body, holding her where he wanted. He pounded into her now, each plunge causing little sounds to escape her, rising higher in pitch and breathlessness. He hitched himself higher into her body, his legs spread wide to brace himself as he took her relentlessly. She tossed her head and moaned like she was dying, but it was a perfect death, a beautiful one. On a gasping sigh she came apart again, spasming on his cock.

He groaned and went as deep as he could, so deep he knew it had to hurt, but she seemed to want it. She rolled up into it, taking all he had and he emptied himself into her, spurting and pulsing. He laid down on her breastbone and just breathed, her hands soothing the back of his head. After a while he withdrew from her body with a slick sound, lowered her legs so they were more comfortable. She kept her arms around him though, as if she never wanted to let go.

“How was that?” he asked when he could finally form words again.

“It was wonderful,” she replied. She sounded sad and he lifted his head to look at her. She was smiling, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you, Hancock.”

“For what?”

“For everything.” She rolled to the side and levered herself up and he obligingly moved off of her. She got out of the bed and wandered into the office to retrieve her clothes. She wasn’t staying, of course she wasn’t. No one ever did. She came back in and he watched her dress. When she was all put back together again she sat on the edge of the bed, her face blank and empty.

“Where you off to?” he asked softly. _When will you come back? I want you to come back_.

“I’m off to kill my son, Hancock. The great boogeyman of the Commonwealth, born of my own body.” There was bitterness and rage and terrible grief in her voice. She turned and cupped his cheek. A tear traced a track down her face. She placed one single kiss on his lips. “Thanks again, Hancock. I’ll see you around sometime.”

And then she was gone.


End file.
